


And whatever they lose, they rediscover

by natashova



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Meme Lord Peter Parker, Poetry, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Has Issues, Texting an entire poem to the man you love, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, that meme with the dog in the room on fire, the infamous burner phone, tony is good at poetry because he's good at everything fight me guys, tony stark and his infamous coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashova/pseuds/natashova
Summary: It's a little known fact that at fifteen, Tony Stark was a gifted poet. The combination of his genius mind and his complicated teenage emotions made him an able writer, collecting and polishing words like a machine he has to restore.Now, Tony writes again, standing in the ashes of the Avengers fever dream.ORSet after Civil War, Tony writes a poem for Steve when all he has left is a burner phone, broken promises and a stubborn ember of hope.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	And whatever they lose, they rediscover

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first poetry fic, and I have no beta, so I apologize for any mistakes I made.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

_cap breaks promises._   
_"we'll lose"_   
_in that second,_   
_every ounce of trust_   
_released_   
_unbound_   
_willing to believe_   
_whatever he says_   
_in return._   
_"then we'll do that together_   
_too"._

Tony remembers, vividly, that time when Steve promised to be there. The time when he swore, half unspoken, that no matter how catastrophic the loss, he would stay by Tony's side.

He can still feel the rush of relief, the band-aid on his ageing heart when he believed he had Steve. The feeling of being wanted and trusted is burned so strongly onto his very being that he still dreams about it- even now. Standing in the ashes of the Avengers fever dream. Surveying the wreckage of his naivety. 

A little part of him still believes. Tony is fully aware that he poured expensive alcohol on a flame and expected it to flicker and die, when deep down he knew that it would burn brighter than before. 

One day, he thinks it was a Sunday, Peter came into the tower unexpectedly and, well. It wasn't a pretty sight, as Tony was (impressively) both drunk and hungover. 

He took one look at his wasted mentor and pulled out his phone, frantically typing something.

"Hey kid," Tony slurred, "don't go telling on me. Not cool."

"I'm not busting you Mr Stark, it's, uh, your life I guess?" Peter scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "It just reminded me of a meme I saw. Um... this one!"

Peter handed Tony the phone, saying "This is you, Mr Stark, seriously."

The meme was a yellow dog in a room on fire, sat at a table with a mug. There was a speech bubble saying 'This is fine.'

Before Tony could respond indignantly, Peter took the phone back and said he was heading into the lab to work on the web formula. Waving him off, Tony sat back into the chair holding his glass of whiskey contemplatively.

"Damn kid." He muttered, "If only he knew how spot on that analogy was."

After that, Tony drank less, which was good. Unfortunately, he also decided that a good replacement for his poisonous drink was something toxic to inhale instead.

It had been a long time since Tony had smoked like this. Sure, he enjoyed a cigarette now and then, but he kicked the habit in his early twenties.

So, to say Rhodey was surprised to see his friend chainsmoking on the balcony was an understatement.

"You gonna talk about it, Tones?" He asked softly, without judgement.

"Not a chance." Tony scoffed, taking a particularly long drag. 

"Hand me one then. I'll keep you company."

The pair spent almost two hours in a comfortable silence, the only sounds from the traffic below and the occasional click of the lighter.

When Rhodey got up to leave, he placed one hand on Tony's shoulder and said "Don't break yourself over this."

Tony heard the footsteps of his best friend fade, and wondered if he'd ever open up again. Ever trust again.

Tony remembers the time when Steve promised to be there. He wonders how delusional he must have been to have seen love in those eyes.

_spoken so strongly_   
_you're compelled_   
_to believe._   
_they lost._   
_but they lost_   
_to each other._   
_promises twisted_   
_and poisoned_   
_and still_   
_promises._   
_indescript phone._   
_indescribable promise._   
_"whatever it takes"_   
_he promised._   
_his promises_   
_shouldn't mean anything now;_   
_no trust._   
_liar._

Sitting at his desk, his eyes linger on the phone Steve left him when he, well, left him. Ran off with his childhood friend because he never truly loved-

Tony quickly cuts off that train of thought, forcing it back into the darkest corner of his mind, refusing to face reality. He returns his attention to the computer, to the document full of false starts and cliché concepts.

It's a little known fact that at fifteen, Tony Stark was a gifted poet. The combination of his genius mind and his complicated teenage emotions made him an able writer, collecting and polishing words like a machine he has to restore.

When his parents died, he felt the violent roar of grief, simultaneously overwhelming his mind and numbing his emotions to the point where he was so changed that he couldn't do it anymore.

Words that once flowed smoothly like clockwork ground to a bitter halt, depriving Tony of his last healthy outlet. Thinking nothing of it in the haze, he tucked his notebook away and reached for the whiskey.

The decades passed and it was almost as if the recent events revived the poetic voice in him; maybe two wrongs do make a right.

Deciding to change tack, Tony closed the document and reached for a pen and paper.

It was if someone had ripped open a faucet, everything that wouldn't type poured out onto the page. The poem was a mess, a formless chunk of angry, brutal, beautiful sentences that expressed everything he wanted it to. 

He reread what he wrote with a more critical eye, reshaping the raw emotions into palatable English, harshly critiquing his rusty wording. 

When Tony was satisfied, he folded the page in half and tucked it into the locked drawer of the desk.

Three weeks later, with a cigarette in his hand and a determined expression, he pulled out the burner phone and typed it all out into a text message. (It had been a while since he used an old-fashioned keypad, so that took longer than he would care to admit.)

Wondering if he would regret this, he quickly added a short line at the bottom:

"you asked to read my poetry a couple of years ago. i didn't like that idea. you taught me that we don't always get what we want, or even what we thought we already had. -ts"

Trying not to tremble, he sent off the message, praying that the phone really would contact Steve. 

Without the luxury of read receipts, Tony went to bed troubled that night, silently begging the universe to give him a break for once in his life.

The universe, unsurprisingly, didn't reply.

_yet somehow_   
_despite the pain,_   
_despite the loss,_   
_there's always more to gain_   
_in him._   
_and whatever they lose_   
_they rediscover_   
_and it burns even brighter_   
_than it did before._   
_hurts even deeper_   
_than it did before._   
_they love even harder_   
_than they could before._

Tony, despite his current pessimism, hates bad endings. His life seems to deal him those cards constantly and unrepentantly, ending everything painfully and pairing them with beginnings that were so beautiful he couldn't bear to ignore them.

There was Yinsen, a saviour before he even spoke a word to Tony. He knows he owes his life to the man, and that debt shall remain unfulfilled until the day he himself drops. Tony tries to believe that death was truly what his companion wanted.

Obadiah was the caring father figure that Tony desperately needed, until his jealousy got the better of him and he went from supportive to unplugging the life support. Tony cursed the man who invented greed.

These circumstances are what made losing Steve so jarring. Somehow, Tony had convinced himself that his boyfriend loved him and would never leave him behind, but... it turns out even Captain America was a bastard.

"I'm so done with bad end-"

A shrill, tinny noise comes from the burner phone. On autopilot, Tony reaches for it and answers in a split second.

"Steve?"

There was a huff of breath and a pause.

"I read your poem, Tony." 

Tony hadn't noticed how much he missed Steve despite everything. Hearing his voice was almost too much, but the last thing he would ever do is hang up.

Tony swallowed. "Um. Yeah. Thoughts?"

"We lost. And I'm sorry." Steve said, trying to hide the uncertainty in his tone, "I broke a promise, and I hurt us. We both made mistakes but..." A shaky sigh exits Steve's mouth, and Tony feels the familiar ache to kiss away the pain for him.

"But." Steve spoke more surely now, "I made the bigger one. That mistake was leaving you behind. I love you, Tony, and I have completely failed at expressing that in a meaningful way."

"I love y- you too," Tony said, voice small and stuttering slightly. All his residual anger was fading hearing from the man he loved speak to him again. "We really lost, Steve. Can we really continue the story of us? When all I have left is the ashes of what we were?"

"Killing me with poetry." Steve mutters, but he spoke too close to the microphone and Tony smiles a small, hopeful smile.

Steve, unbeknownst to Tony, was stroking over the words of his poem, having copied it out as soon as he received it. "What is lost, as you said yourself, can be rediscovered. What love we had can make it, Tony." He paused, before adding;

"We'll burn even brighter than we did before." 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! This is easily the most terrifying thing I've written. Like, ever, so I really appreciate you taking a chance on this fic.
> 
> I thrive off of comments thanks to my horrific work ethic, so it'd be cool if you could let me know if you like my writing/poetry/general efforts! It means a lot.
> 
> Sending you all good vibes!


End file.
